


Recommendation

by RoseisaRoseisaRose



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Hate at First Sight, Strangers to enemies, annette is an optimist, bg Dedue Molinaro, but like supervised and in moderation, felix is a disaster, mercedes drinks and she knows things, pre-game, sylvain is a cad, underaged drinking, which is wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/pseuds/RoseisaRoseisaRose
Summary: The finest future soldiers in the Kingdom and the brightest future scholars of the Royal Academy gather for an end-of-the-year banquet.Finest fighters and brightest minds don’t always see eye to eye, as Felix Fraldarius and Annette Dominic are about to find out.But at least after tonight they’ll never see each other again. (So they think.)
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 24
Kudos: 79





	Recommendation

**Author's Note:**

> "That's why I was determined to gain acceptance into the academy. I needed to come here so I could search for my father. The problem was that I needed money to get in. Lots of it. And I didn't have any at all. So I entered the school of sorcery in Fhirdiad first, hoping I could somehow find a path here. I studied tirelessly until I finally earned myself a recommendation."  
> ~ Annette Fantine Dominic

Mercie had gone a little overboard on Annette’s hair. Annette had wanted an up-do, just to be fancy. She wore it halfway pulled back and loose around her shoulders every day for class and in a messy bun on top of her head every night when she studied, and she wanted things to be special that night. More than that, as they approached graduation from the Royal School of Sorcery, she wanted a change. Hair was a great place to start with that, and it wasn’t like she could afford a new dress. But Mercedes had spent the better part of an hour pinning a half-dozen delicate braids around Annette’s head, and the effect made Annette feel more like a doll than an accomplished sorceress.

Maybe the concept was still good, she thought, poking a strand into place. Maybe she could just go with a couple of braids next time; streamline the process.

She didn’t mention this to Mercie, of course. There was far too much else to talk about. It was traditional that the Royal Palace host the banquet to celebrate the end of the year at the School of Sorcery, and the giant banquet hall was everything Annette had imagined a palace would look like. Everything about the room, from the tapestries on the walls celebrating the victories of Loog to the chandeliers that cast the room in a soft white light, seemed grand beyond Annette’s wildest dreams. It was the perfect capstone to the end of her time as a student.

No, Annette reminded herself, because that part still seemed like a dream. It was the perfect _beginning_ to her time as a student. Because in two weeks, the Royal School of Sorcery was going to seem downright elementary compared to the work she was going to be doing.

“I think that’s the prince, you know. Prince Dimitri,” Mercedes said, leaning over across their appetizer course of fruit and cheese. “They say he’s very handsome.”

“Who’s the tall man standing with him?” Annette asked. The prince _was_ very handsome, dressed like a picture book prince, although he couldn’t have been that much older than her. “Is it his bodyguard?”

“I believe he has a trusted friend who is most in his confidence. From Duscur, I think,” Mercedes whispered. She popped a grape in her mouth and gave Annette a sly grin. “He’s _also_ very handsome; they didn’t tell me that.”

Annette focused her attention on the friend, and she could have sworn he looked directly at her, although he didn’t smile at all, or really acknowledge her in any way. Annette buried her face in her wine goblet and quickly looked away. Mercie’s taste had always been braver. He looked very stern.

“I’m surprised the prince would come to a banquet like this,” Annette said, setting her goblet down a little too quickly on the table between them. It was heavier wine than she was used to; the sort her mother would let her have one sip of and then whisk away before she could decide if she liked it. “I hadn’t heard he was particularly interested in magical studies.”

“No, I think he’s here connected with Officer’s Academy,” Mercie said. She and Annette swiveled their eyes in unison to a table across the hall, where young men and women sat in sharp military uniform, a rowdier and less intimidated bunch than their table of overwhelmed mages. “He’ll be starting there in the fall, I believe, along with the princess from the Empire. Quite an auspicious year to attend.” She gave Annette another sly grin, and this time Annette grinned back, the wine and excitement both making her blush.

It wasn’t unusual for students from the School of Sorcery to continue on to the Officer’s Academy once they’d finished their studies, particularly if they were found to be especially adept in their field. So it made sense, in a way, for Garreg Mach faculty and former Blue Lion House students to be in attendance at the banquet; a celebration of all the Kingdom’s best and brightest.

“Are those all students who will be with us at the Academy next month?” Annette asked. They were a bit overwhelming, with their sharply creased uniforms and the way they didn’t seem to find the banquet hall intimidating at all. Annette wondered how grand the banquet hall was in Garreg Mach. Surely monasteries were more humble than palaces.

Mercedes frowned, and leaned back as squires silently swept their plates away and replaced them with soup bowls. “I think they were part of a summer program,” she said. “So some of them will be heading straight into the Kingdom army, and some will continue on in the fall. Hard to say who’s who, though.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to convince one of them to fall hopelessly in love with you,” Annette said, tasting a small spoonful of soup. It was pumpkin of some sort, with a cream sauce drizzled on the top. Banquets at the School of Sorcery were nothing compared to this opulence.

Mercedes giggled into her soup spoon, and Annette was only a tiny bit jealous at how delicate and refined she managed to look when giggling into her soup. “My stepfather would certainly approve of that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I suspect that’s exactly why he’s sending me in the first place.”

“The prince will be there. And maybe his handsome friend,” Annette pointed out pragmatically.

“Mm. And the biggest cathedral in central Fódlan. And bishops who have devoted their whole lives to work for the church. And the Archbishop herself, if she’ll deign to see me,” Mercedes said. She winked at Annette. “Let’s just say my stepfather and I don’t entirely agree on how I should be spending my time at the Academy.”

“I’ll miss you in the libraries,” Annette said, a little glumly.

Mercie’s laugh was high and sweet. “I never studied, anyway.”

“I’ll miss you, anyway,” Annette countered. She took a bite of soup, savoring it on her tongue, and they looked around the room in silence for a moment, at the Royal head table and the Garreg Mach faculty and their own chattering classmates. “Say, Mercie,” she said, sliding her eyes back over to the table of soldiers from Garreg Mach. “Do you think – if those students spent the summer at Garreg Mach – well, they’d have to have met all the knights there, right? The knights of Seiros?”

Mercedes frowned, truly frowned, for the first time that evening. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Annie,” she said hesitantly.

“I won’t bother them!” Annette insisted. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask. They look friendly.”

“Mm,” Mercedes said, in a tone that said she didn’t want an argument. “I think maybe the prince is looking at you, Annie. Wait wait, don’t look, it’ll be obvious.”

Annette looked immediately, but the prince was deep in conversation with a man with a large mustache and monocle that somehow seemed to match the mustache. Mercie had never been good at changing the subject, but Annette didn’t want an argument, either.

“Wouldn’t that be a thing,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure he’d like my hair.”

The soup course was cleared away soon enough, and Annette tapped her feet excitedly for the main course.

***

Felix wore his hair in the same style he had every day for the past two years, and he couldn’t figure out why he felt like it was slipping. Maybe it was the heat of the room and the constant thrush of people rushing by. Maybe he’d tied it wrong, somehow, as Sylvain shouted at him from outside his room that they were going to be late. Maybe he was fiddling with it too much, out of nerves or boredom. Regardless, it wouldn’t stay out of his face, and he hated it.

“I told you that you should have left it down,” Sylvain said as Felix reached to push his hair back behind his ears again. He cheerfully took a bite out of the steak that had just been placed in front of him. Meals had been less extravagant these past two months, for the both of them. Felix had liked his time at Garreg Mach – it was a short training program, nowhere near the depth of their curriculum in the fall, but there had been no banquets and no meetings with noblemen and the meals were simple and he could concentrate on his swordwork. The return to Fhirdiad for the rest of the summer had been torture.

Felix scoffed. “You said that I should wear down so that, I quote, I would impress all the ladies of the land –”

“With your luxurious locks, yes, I remember. I stand by that,” Sylvain said, waving his fork towards Felix, his mouth full of steak. “Bookish girls love that sort of thing. You’d look like a warlock of old or something, like you know many magical secrets.”

Felix glowered at his steak and perfectly cooked potatoes. “Even if that wasn’t complete nonsense, I don’t see why you’d care,” he grumbled.

“Because, my dear young swordmaster,” Sylvain said grandly. “If they flock to you, they flock near _me_. And since you’re the most disastrous conversationalist I’ve ever met, it makes my job of sweeping them off their feet that much easier.”

“Disgusting,” Felix grumbled again, and a squire walking by looked at him, then his plate, in surprise. Felix frowned and took a bite of steak, which was, quite to the contrary, perfect. “I can’t believe you’re thinking of women at a time like this.”

“Are you kidding? This is the _perfect_ time to think of women,” Sylvain said, a little too loudly for Felix’s liking, although no one around them seemed to notice, as the squire had scampered off somewhere. “Look around, Felix. What do you see?” He gestured to the table of graduates from the School of Sorcery, who whispered quietly to each other and occasionally cast giggling glances in his direction.

“Vaguely competent mages,” Felix said darkly. “A handful of puffed up nobles. And a good amount of future schoolteachers.”

“ _Exactly_. So you get it,” Sylvain said excitedly. Felix got nothing, and hoped his scowl was more angry than confused. Sylvain sighed with the patience of a saint, and leaned in conspiratorially. “All these girls are going back home to families and awaiting a life of spinsterhood or knitting socks or being married off to a moderately successful wheat merchant or what have you. This banquet is their last chance! For some passion! For some excitement! And if they find out I’m a Gautier – well, what girl wouldn’t want to meet a boy with a Crest on his way to the Officers Academy? Quite the exciting start to a romance, don’t you think?”

“Start _and_ end,” Felix muttered. There was no chance Sylvain would be writing responses to any letters that he received at the Academy.

“Ah, but what a start,” Sylvain said fondly, giving Felix a brotherly pat on the back.

Felix pushed Sylvain off him, glaring back at his potatoes, which rolled across his plate unhelpfully as he stabbed at them. “You are quite possibly the worst person I’ve ever met,” he said, finally spearing a potato and biting into angrily, which wasn’t as intimidating or chastising as he might have hoped.

Sylvain rolled his eyes at this. “I’m not going to leave them penniless at a shady inn on the northern border, Felix,” he said, leaning back in his chair, running his eyes across the banquet table of Sorcery graduates. “They get to kiss a handsome noble in a hidden alcove at a royal palace, and then they get to go marry whatever wheat merchant they want. I’m doing them a favor.”

“Do me a favor and stop talking,” Felix snapped. A sudden commotion distracted him from saying anything more scathing, however, and he looked to the front of the room. He closed his eyes; the temptation to roll them was overwhelming. His hair felt loose around his ears once more, and he angrily pushed the strands back.

“Oh look, they’re making Dimitri say something,” Sylvain said brightly. “Wow, he looks miserable!” A knight was waving his hands for silence as Dimitri stood awkwardly by him, clearly unhappy about being the de facto master of ceremonies.

“I suppose you can train an animal to speak,” Felix muttered. He turned his attention ostensibly towards the front of the room to avoid the sharp glance he knew his friend would give him. He didn’t need a follow up conversation.

“Friends, colleagues, noble companions,” Dimitri said, and a proper hush fell over the room by the final greeting. “It is my honor to welcome you to the palace this evening. I hope the food and drink has been acceptable –” there was a smattering of applause and affirming laughter, and Dimitri managed a smile that didn’t look exactly natural. “I’m so glad,” he added, with a tense laugh of his own. “The chef has informed me that dessert will be ready in half an hour’s time,” he said. “We have champagne in the meantime. If you would like to take it outside, we have a lovely view of the sunset this time of day if you follow the double doors out the back. Again, welcome!” He raised his own glass to a louder round of cheers, and took his seat neat to Dedue, who leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

“Thirty minutes, hm?” Sylvain said. “I don’t suppose you’d like my portion of dessert if I’m back later than that.”

Felix pushed his chair back roughly and stormed towards the eastern doors at the end of the hall. He figured at this point in his life he’d seen enough sunsets to last him forever.

***

Annette felt bad leaving Mercie with Lorenz, she really did. He talked quite a lot, usually about nothing at all. But he never seemed to notice Annette was there, and if Mercedes was too polite to fake a fainting spell or some other useful diversion tactic, there was little Annette could do to help her.

And besides, she had Garreg Mach graduates to mingle with. And it might be for the best if Mercie wasn’t with her when she did.

She scanned the room with disappointment, clutching her flute of champagne nervously. Most of the students had already paired off, either chatting with people they already knew or in the process of meeting someone new. Annette didn’t quite have the courage to join a group of strangers already in conversation, not without Mercie. She was just about to head out to the side gardens and try her luck among the hedges when she spotted a lone student leaning against the wall, sipping his own champagne flute and scanning the hall lazily. Perhaps he was looking for a new friend, as well. Or at least, someone to talk to.

Annette screwed up her courage, took a swig of her champagne, and sidled up to the student as casually as possible. She wasn’t sure if he saw her, at first – he was at least a foot taller than her, with red hair possibly even more fiery than her own and a strong nose and jawline. He certainly _looked_ like the sort of person who would one day be a distinguished graduate of an officer’s academy. Annette wasn’t sure if that meant he would be the sort to fraternize with the Knights of Seiros, but she took it as a good sign.

“Um,” she said, her voice unusually small. “Hello.”

He looked down at her, and Annette felt immediately assured by the smile he gave her. She had worried she’d be bothering him, but as he looked at her she irrationally felt that there was no one else in the world he would rather be talking to at the moment.

“Well hello there,” he said, taking another sip of his champagne. “Enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, it’s all very lovely,” Annette said, matching him with her own champagne flute. “I’ve never been in the Royal Palace before.”

“Really, never?” he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “I thought maybe you were related to the royal family somehow. Although, I would have been quite angry if Dimitri was hiding a sister as pretty as you.” He winked as he said it, but Annette barely registered this from the shock of hearing Prince Dimitri’s name so casually.

“O-oh,” she stammered. It was possible she had struck up a conversation with someone terribly important. “You know the prince? I thought you were –”

“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” he said, giving her another easy smile, as if this were extremely good news. “Gautier territory is awfully close to Fhirdiad, you know, so yes, I’ve known him most of my life. Sweet kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” Annette said, not sure why she was apologizing but certain she’d made a mistake. “I thought – from the uniform – I thought maybe you were a student at Garreg Mach this summer.”

“Like a man in uniform, eh?” the man – Sylvain – said, his smile widening. “As it happens, I was. My father thought it would be something to do this summer, I suppose. And it was nice to get to know the monastery grounds – it’s a beautiful place, you should visit someday if you’re ever in that part of the world.”

Annette’s heart beat a little faster. So he _had_ been at Garreg Mach that summer. And he seemed like a friendly guy – he probably was the type to get to know people quickly. She took another sip of champagne to steady her nerves and then cut in, interrupting him mid-description of the mountains surrounding the monastery.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, and she heard the eagerness in her voice, tried to tone it down when he looked at her curiously. “When you were at Garreg Mach did you meet any knights? I mean –” she frowned. Of course there would be knights. She wished she had a name she could go off of, but after years of searching, her mother was fairly certain her father no longer went by Gustave Dominic. Annette tried again. “Did you meet anyone at the monastery this summer who, um – who kind of looks like me?”

Sylvain leaned down a little further, staring at her intently, then gave her a soft, kind smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who looks quite like you, Miss –?”

“Dominic,” Annette said, deflating a little. “Annette Dominic.” It had been a long shot. But her father still _might_ be there. Just because one soldier didn’t know him, that didn’t mean anything.

“Miss Dominic,” Sylvain repeated back to her. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes – how do I put this? I look into them and I feel like I’ve known you a long time.”

“Oh?” Annette asked. She leaned away from him slightly and took another sip of champagne. She had her father’s eyes; maybe Sylvain had met him after all. He looked at her intently, and she tried to think of a way to jog his memory. “I’ve always thought – I mean. Hm. Sometimes it takes a while for things to click, but if you really think – well. That would be nice!”

“You seem a bit flustered, Miss Dominic,” Sylvain said. He put a hand on her shoulder, just beginning to curve around to her back, and gave an almost-imperceptible nudge. “Is it the crowds? Maybe we could go somewhere we could talk more privately, what do you think?”

“I’m not sure –” Annette started, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Don’t worry.” His fingers pressed into her back a bit more insistently, and Annette took a step forward without meaning to. “I grew up running through these old halls. I’ll get you back safe and sound.”

“Dimitri wants to talk to you.”

The voice cut through the air like a knife, and was about as friendly. Annette peered around Sylvain and saw another student in an Officer’s Academy Uniform. Everything about him was sharp and severe, from the creases in his jacket to his high cheekbones to the glare he seemed to leverage at both of them at once, and Annette felt the smile she had been willing to offer him fade away from her face. She clutched her glass and looked up at Sylvain nervously, but he seemed unbothered by his friend’s – maybe a friend? – dour expression.

“Dimitri? What about?” he asked, turning away from Annette but keeping a hand on her back.

“Didn’t ask. Better hurry,” the soldier replied.

Sylvain turned to her and gave her a sympathetic wince. “I’m so sorry, but I do need to go check on him,” he said, and he really did sound sorry. “Perhaps this won’t take long and we can –”

His friend cleared his throat loudly. Sylvain looked back in surprise, losing whatever he had planned on suggesting.

“Oh, of course,” Annette said. She was surprised he thought she was worth coming back for. “I’d like that.”

“I'm so glad,” he said with a final, blinding smile. And then he was gone, heading towards the front of the room and leaving Annette alone with his taciturn companion.

Annette felt her shoulders sag. It had seemed like such a good lead – and he had been so willing to talk! She cast a glance at his friend, who didn’t seem nearly as chatty. He was looking at her with narrowed eyes, and Annette almost flinched for how intensely he was sizing her up.

“You should probably go back to your friends,” he said, nodding towards the table where School of Sorcery students were beginning to recongregate. “They’re serving dessert soon.”

“I mean . . . we were in the middle of a conversation,” Annette said. “I think he’s coming back.”

“Probably not. Wouldn’t bother,” he replied, crossing his arms and looking away. “Whatever Dimitri wants, it’s going to take forever.”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business, Sir –” Annette waited for him to finish her sentence so she could at least know what to call him.

He sighed. “Listen,” he said, turning back towards her. He wasn’t as tall as Sylvain, but Annette still felt as if she was sinking into herself when he loomed over her like that. “I know you’re probably very impressed by him. Heir to Gautier. Perfect guy to settle down with. He probably mentioned his Crest a few times, huh?”

“Um,” Annette replied, trying to remember what he had said about his own family as opposed to hers.

“I get it, really,” said the soldier, who evidently did not have a name worth supplying. “But he’s not going to start courting some girl he’s just met at a random banquet. He’s not going to give you what you want. So if you want my recommendation, just go back to your friends and have a good time and when you go back home your father can help you find some suitor that’s worth your time.”

Annette stared at him, gripping her champagne flute very tightly. Her ears grew redder and redder throughout this speech, and by the time he was done she was fairly sure her entire body was glowing a peculiar shade of summer tomato.

“Well,” he said, out of things to say. “Goodbye.”

“You know what I think?” Annette said, and her voice came out a little too loud for the polite conversation of the evening, but it stopped him in his tracks and that was good enough. “I think you’re rude.”

He turned around and cocked his head at her. “What?” he said, with absolutely no upwards inflection.

“I think you’re very rude,” Annette repeated. “I think you’re maybe the rudest person I’ve ever met.” She marched forward, quickly closing the gap between them, and stared up at him. “You think you can just walk around telling people what to do and acting like you know their lives, name dropping that you’re friends with the prince and you talk about Crests all the time with all your Crest friends.”

“I didn’t – I didn’t say that –” he started, as if Annette was about to let him claim this conversation.

“I guess you think you’re best friends with him, huh? Well, I bet Prince Dimitri thinks you’re rude, too,” she said. She felt very lightheaded and it was all converting to energy, and she couldn’t stop talking. “I bet he wishes you’d leave him alone and never talk again. Because that’s what’s wrong with you! It’s that all you do is talk and you never listen to anyone, and maybe if you listened more you’d actually have something worth saying.”

She stopped talking, suddenly, realizing how very loud her voice had pitched. No one seemed to notice except a squire passing by with a tray of desserts, who gave a disapproving look to the soldier, not to Annette. She realized she was breathing very heavily, and frantically looked around to see if someone was staring.

The man blinked at her, open mouthed, for a long moment. Then, to her utter shock, he _laughed_ , a low, dark chuckle that made her ears turn red in anger all over again. “I talk too much and need to leave Dimitri alone, huh?” he asked, chuckling again. “I’ve never heard that one before, I’ll grant you. Or at least, it’s been a while.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Annette snapped, her shoulders tensing up around her ears. “Nothing funny about everyone knowing you’re a pathetic creep without any friends.”

“I’m sorry. Inside joke.” He looked down at her, his glance as intense as ever, but without the frown she had assumed was permanently part of his features. “What’s your name, did you say? I assume you have a future as a poet; after a performance like that I’ll be on the lookout for your work.”

Annette was practically shaking, she was so angry. She realized the reason he wasn’t frowning was because he was actually _smiling_ at her. It was somehow worse than the laugh.

“Ask my father if you’re so curious – it sounds like you know him _super_ well,” she snapped.

If this were one of Mercie’s particularly thrilling books, Annette would have thrown her champagne in his face for dramatic effect. But as she moved to do this, she realized she’d already finished it all. With a huff, she thrust the glass out at him, angrily glaring. He took it with a look of slight surprise. Annette turned on her heel and walked back to Mercedes with all the furious grace she could summon.

She was extremely glad that Lorenz had left by the time she got there. She was even more glad that the desserts had arrived.

“I’m so glad you’re back; I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to,” Mercedes said in a low, excited whisper as Annette collapsed into her seat and desperately reached for her dessert plate to drown her sorrows. “Tell me,” she added. “Is Duke Fraldarius’s son going to bring you more champagne? I’ve heard they’re very chivalrous in that family!”

Annette choked on her bite of cake.

***

Felix poked at his cake angrily, scraping the frosting off as if that would make it any less sickeningly sweet. He’d taken one bite of it without thinking and had almost spit it out, it was so intensely vanilla. He wished, not for the first time, that Ingrid was here rather than having tea with successful merchants on a weekly basis in her father’s last-ditch attempt to secure a match before he let her go off to the Officer’s Academy for the year. At the very least, she would have taken the cake off his hands – vanilla was definitely in her top fifty favorite flavors. But more importantly, Ingrid was always better, and more willing, to clean up Sylvain’s messes. And that meant Felix didn’t have to cut his fingers on any broken hearts.

He spotted Sylvain walking back towards the table with a slight frown on his face. He wasn’t sure if it was to Sylvain’s credit or not that his glance did flicker towards the back of the room to ascertain that the girl wasn’t waiting for him anymore. Either way, she had long rejoined her table and had been swallowed up in conversation almost as soon as she sat down. Felix frowned at the extra champagne glass sitting at the edge of his plate, with a slight lipstick smudge on the edge. He hadn’t known what else to do with it. She’d already forgotten him and he was stuck staring at her champagne glass as if she’d recorded all her insults to him around the rim and left it there for him to contemplate.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Sylvain said with no preamble, sliding next to Felix. “Dimitri rambled for so long about whether the speech had gone well and if I’d been able to hear alright that it took me a good fifteen minutes before I realized he didn’t actually have anything he wanted to talk to me about.”

“Your point being?” Felix asked. He tapped his knuckles on the table impatiently.

“You picked a pretty good lie,” Sylvain said. He almost sounded impressed. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” His eyes drifted over to the table across the hall, where the girl sat next to her friend, waving her fork wildly in the middle of some story while the other girl’s shoulders shook with evident laughter. “If you were really that desperate to cozy up to her, you could have told me,” Sylvain added, sounding almost reproachful. “I could’ve gone for her friend – she’s more my type, anyway. Goddess, look at those –”

“I wasn’t trying to _cozy up to_ anyone,” Felix said sharply, and a little too loudly. He realized his voice was amplified by how the people around him were quieting down – looking to the front of the room, he realized Dimitri was standing again, calling for quiet. Felix leaned back in his chair. “I’m just not interested in dealing with the fallout of your insatiable stupidity tonight,” he hissed at Sylvain, the s’s and t’s ricocheting across the room even more prominently than when he’d almost been yelling. A glare from a particularly rule-abiding classmate stopped Sylvain from replying, and they both sank into sullen silence as Dimitri began to speak.

“I hope you’ve all enjoyed your evening so far. If my uncle could be here, I’m sure he would tell you how bright the future of the Kingdom looks, with such talented future leaders and scholars among us,” he said. They were pretty words. Felix wondered who had written them. “We’re honored tonight to have Professor Hanneman von Essar, a leader scholar at the Officer’s Academy, to present some awards. Professor, if you would?” He stepped away, and a mustached academic took his place, shuffling a large pile of notes and clearing his throat loudly.

“The partnership between Garreg Mach and the Royal School of Sorcery is a long and valued one,” he said, and Felix sunk lower in his chair. He could tell already they would be here a while. “As such, the Church of Seiros is honored to present scholarships and awards at the recommendation of your esteemed professors and mentors. I am very pleased to see we have such an impressive batch of scholars among us this year, and there are several awards that it is my pleasure to bestow before we leave this evening. First, we have had several recommendations for students with exceptional attendance and dedication –”

“You’ve never cared about my _insatiable stupidity_ before,” Sylvain whispered, directly in his ear. Felix flinched away but regrettably couldn’t punch him. “Don’t tell me you spend two months at the Officer’s Academy and you suddenly care about defending the honor of young maidens.”

“Young maidens can do what they want,” Felix shot back. “I’m tired of you looking like an idiot all the time.”

He leaned forward on his elbows and listlessly spun the champagne glass. It made a lazy circle before threatening to fall, and he caught it and spun it again. Hanneman - a man he’d barely met while at Garreg Mach but had already learned to tune out – was awarding something called the “Good Neighbor Award” to a Mercedes von Martritz. Felix stared at the light as it reflected off the twirling glass.

Why had he bothered with Sylvain the evening? It certainly wasn’t the first time Felix had seen him chatting up some hapless minor noblewoman or bored shopkeeper’s assistant. Felix had better things to do than play chaperone.

But when he’d walked back into the banquet hall, vaguely hoping the mingling was over and he could sit out the rest of the evening without talking to anyone at all, he couldn’t help but look over at Sylvain and the girl he was talking to, and he couldn’t help but wish Sylvain would leave her well enough alone. She looked up at him so hopefully, her eyes shining with excitement as she asked him a question, and the whole awful scene made Felix’s stomach turn.

Evidently he should’ve let her stay hopeful for another three meaningless months before she realized Sylvain wasn’t going to visit her. She had shifted through every possible emotion during their conversation, but he couldn’t quite shake the way her stormy grey-blue eyes flashed with anger and disappointment before she turned to walk away.

Her eyes were oceans, and she wanted him to drown. That’s what he got for trying to be nice.

“She really did a number on you, huh?” Sylvain’s voice was once again too close, and Felix jerked back into reality. Too late, he realized he’d been staring at the girl, who was, awkwardly enough, directly in his sightline, now that he knew to look for her. Her hair was beginning to fall into her face as she eagerly looked at a certificate her friend had won, probably for good dental hygiene or some other ridiculous category. Felix looked away, tugging his own falling hair back into place.

Sylvain nudged him again. “So, did you two have a nice talk? She seemed a little scattered but she might be willing to listen to you talk about swords for literal years if you really hit it off.”

“She told me I was a creep with no friends and recommended that I never talk again,” Felix said flatly, his voice hidden under the round of applause as Hanneman announced another award.

Sylvain gave a low whistle. “After five minutes? That’s almost impressive.”

“I gave you the short version,” Felix added. “I think she had some more feedback lined up but we didn’t really get the chance to unpack it.”

“Well, I hope you’ve learned a lesson from all this,” Sylvain said. Felix gave him a glare, and he added. “Next time _tell me_ if you want me to play wingman, and I can help set you up. We can’t keep working at cross-purposes like this, my friend.”

“I told you, I just want you to stop being an embarrassment. I don’t care about that girl,” Felix grumbled.

“She’s looking right at you,” Sylvain said. Felix’s head shot up in a panic and Sylvain snorted. Felix did punch him this time, well hidden under another round of polite applause for a student who evidently did very well on some Reason magic examinations.

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix muttered, leaning back in his chair again and crossing his arms. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see any of these people again.”

“And think of all the girls you can meet at the Officer’s Academy. With any luck you’ll get a full 15 minutes before the Adestrian women start insulting you,” Sylvain said. He leaned back as well, giving Felix a wide smile. “I think we’re in for a very lovely year, myself.”

Felix watched impassively as a Dark Mage took his seat among his friends as they reached over and gave him several friendly pats on the back. He was looking forward to returning to the training grounds of Garreg Mach, he had to admit. The niceties of the banquets and balls in Fhirdiad were getting to him – and he certainly wasn’t suited for it.

“We have one final award to give out this evening, and it’s a most distinguished honor,” Hanneman announced loudly. Felix breathed a sigh of relief. There was enough fading daylight left that he might actually be able to get in a few rounds at the palace training grounds tonight – he could leave Sylvain to assure Dimitri that everything had gone fine.

“As you all know, the final month at the Royal School of Sorcery is a series of comprehensive exams in both practical and theoretical magicks,” Hanneman continued. “It truly encompasses the tenacity, form, and critical thinking required to succeed in magical studies. Why, I remember my own days as a student at this very school, and the sleepless nights I spent preparing for this rite of passage.”

“Do you think he had that mustache as a student, as well? Maybe he was born with it,” Sylvain muttered. Felix snickered.

“This year, we have an incredible accomplishment of a student who received full marks on the comprehensive examination!” Hanneman said, his voice booming enthusiastically through the banquet hall. “Such an accomplishment is a rare and deserving achievement, and Garreg Mach is pleased to offer our final award this evening to Miss Annette Fantine Dominic, who will be attending Garreg Mach this term with the highest recommendation from the Royal School of Sorcery!”

Sylvain stiffened before Felix did, his entire body tensing up as the hall burst into applause. By far the most rambunctious cheers were from the School of Sorcery students, who all seemed quite pleased that their Annette Fantine Dominic had done so well. Felix didn’t see why Sylvain was so concerned that a bookworm was getting credit for her hard work; it would be useful to have a somewhat competent mage at Garreg Mach that year.

Until Annette Fantine Dominic stood up to collect her award. And Felix Hugo Fraldarius knocked an empty champagne glass over, sending it rolling over the table and crashing to the floor.

He could’ve sworn she looked at him as she walked by.

“Miss Dominic!” Hanneman boomed, shaking her hand several times over. “We are so thrilled to present you this award for such a remarkable achievement. I was three points off, you know. Almost had it! Now tell us, what House will you be joining in the fall?”

“Blue Lions House, sir,” Annette said, her voice barely carrying except for the fact that Felix was straining so hard to hear it.

Felix didn’t hear much after that, nor did he try to. He looked on in horror as she accepted the certificate from Hanneman, as Dimitri strode across the hall to give her an overly enthusiastic handshake that somehow turned into an awkward hug, as her table of peers led another round of wild, raucous applause that made her blush just as hard as when she was talking to him, except that she was actually happy.

“On the bright side,” Sylvain yelled to him over the applause. “You have all year to convince her to change her mind.”

Felix pushed back his chair and walked out of the room without responding or looking back. He was out the side doors and on his way to the training grounds before the applause had even died down. Dimitri had been right; the sunset was beautiful that evening.

Felix desperately reached for a sword at his hip that wasn’t even there, and walked just a little faster.

It was going to be a long year.

**Author's Note:**

> Felix rolls up to Annette's C-support like eyyyy it's my best friend Annette and she turns around and tells him that he's an evil goblin who doesn't deserve love. I'm not saying the entire thing is Sylvain's fault, but I am saying I wouldn't be surprised if the entire thing is Sylvain's fault.
> 
> I don't know how recommendations or scholarships or tuition or any of that stuff works in the game, but I do think it would be nice if lots of people clapped and cheered for Annette while she got a major award. That's just a nice vision. And it makes up for how awful a day everyone else in this fic is having (except Mercedes, who's having an excellent evening on the whole).
> 
> It's been a while since I've done an actual, standalone one shot, I guess! Feels nice. Everything on my WIP list right now is either super short or multichapter, but maybe I'll loop back to this format soon; it was a lot of fun. Hope you liked it! 
> 
> [ I'm on twitter! Here's a link. ](https://twitter.com/Rose3Writes)


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